The Blood of Angry Men
by BlackCatFullMoon
Summary: "Didn't say anything about the Blood of Angry Men turning the Gutters red" Grantaire murmured. Warning-Character Death.


**Hadley Fraser is my Grantaire (he was AWESOME) and Ramin Karimloo is my Enjolras. **

**Just how I imagined Grantaire would go...**

**Disclaimer-I (sadly) own nothing...probably for the best...  
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**THE BLOOD OF ANGRY MEN**

Enjolras was one of the last ones left.

Most of his friends had died, died in the second assault, and then the third.

It was he, and a few others who held the barricades now, and they waited for the final attack.

Waiting for death.

Enjolras crept through the Barricades, searching for survivors through the corpses. Dawn would come soon, the first touches of gold were rising from the East, lightening the formerly pitch-black sky. Enjolras had reached the final corner of the barricade, and he sighed, closing the open eyes of a young student as he crouched down, grief nearly overwhelming him as he realised who the student was.

Joly….he too had fallen, killed by the oppressors. It didn't make sense...mere hours ago he was moving, thinking, laughing, BREATHING...

And now...

Enjolras shuddered and stood.

"Rest in peace my friend" He whispered. He made to walk away, but paused as he heard a hacking cough.

"Fitting that you're one of the last….eh Apollo?" Enjolras stiffened, and turned.

There was Grantaire, slumped in the corner, face streaked with sweat, dirt and blood, his shirt stained with the same. A rifle was in his hand, and a hole poked through the barricade, where he had obviously been shooting through. One of his hands held the balled-up French flag close to his side, blood slowly trickling through.

Wounded, weary and pale as death….but gloriously alive.

"Fitting your one of the last to live-The Brave, Proud Leader of our 'Glorious Revolution'" There was only a hint of sarcasm in his tone, only a touch of bitterness.

"Grantaire?" The drunk laughed hoarsely, green eyes glazed with pain and drink.

"What's left of me anyways…not that there was much to begin with" Grantaire smiled a bitter smile, and Enjolras knelt in front of him, scarcely believing his eyes.

"You're alive" Enjolras murmured. Grantaire shrugged.

"Not really. Of course…..one could argue I was never really living to begin with…just existing. Muddling along, one hand on a bottle, trying to make it to the next day….a pretty poor life that is-I should know better than anyone" Grantaire said softly.

"How?" Enjolras asked. Grantaire grimaced, following Enjolras's gaze to the wound that was staining his sash red.

"I took a bullet to the side-I've been going slowly since about for a while…Joly was looking after me until…." Grantaire frowned, eyes looking past Enjolras to their friend, lying on his back, his rifle by his side, and a flare of grief shone in his eyes.

"'Been using his ammunition….and I've been drinking his Brandy…for medicinal purposes, of course" Grantaire raised the green bottle to Enjolras, a mischevious glint in his pain-filled eyes. Enjolras, to his surprise and Grantaire's, took the bottle and took a swig, passing it back to the injured man.

"How were you shot?" Enjolras asked. The brandy burned his throat, but made him feel warmer. As Grantaire shivered, Enjolras realised why his friend found the brandy so comforting.  
>"With a gun" Grantaire deadpanned, taking another gulp of his drink. Enjolras rolled his eyes, playing along with his friend's false humour.<p>

"In all seriousness Grantaire….you're too careful to be hit by a stray bullet, you love yourself too much" Enjolras was right-Grantaire, for one so detached and melancholy, was oddly fond of himself. He would have taken precaution to keep himself alive as long as possible. Grantaire shrugged.

"Pushed an idiot out of the way" Enjolras rose an eyebrow, and Grantaire fidgeted uncomfortable under his scrutiny, wincing as his wound reacted badly to the movement.

"Let me look at that…" Enjolras said softly, coaxing the man's hands away from the sash, and examining the wound.

"Joly gave me a grim prognosis….I needed stitches and rest, one we were out of, the other impossible to get" Grantaire murmured.  
>"It's hopeless Apollo" Enjolras scowled.<br>"Nothing is ever hopeless Grantaire" Grantaire laughed-a bitter, barking laugh.  
>"Look around you Apollo, and pull your head out of the clouds! Your friends lie dead around you….Police will descend on us any moment now….THIS is hopeless, as is my predicament. I will die Apollo, and so will your little revolution….did you honestly believe that this would change ANYTHING?" Grantaire snapped. Enjolras prodded Grantaire's wound viciously, ignoring the yelp of pain.<p>

"NOTHING is hopeless….not while there are those willing to fight for it, BELIEVE in it! Learn to believe in something Grantaire, for once in your miserable, drunk life" Enjolras hissed. Grantaire sighed as Enjolras continued to check his wound.

"It was Marius" Grantaire finally whispered. Enjolras looked up.

"Pardon?"

"It was Marius….he has his 'Cosette' after all, and not EVERYONE can be miserable" Grantaire said sullenly. Enjolras put the sash back over the wound-Grantaire was right, this wound probably was fatal-and the pair sat in silence.

"D'you suppose we'll go to heaven Apollo?" Enjolras looked at Grantaire, turning his head to the side to get a better look at the drunk-he was staring straight ahead, eyes oddly vacant.

"You, me, Gavroche, 'Ponine…..Feuilly, Combeferre, Courferyac, Jehan, Joly, Bousset….and all the rest?" Enjolras shrugged.

"I don't know…..I certainly don't think we'll go to hell" Enjolras murmured.

Grantaire offered his bottle to Enjolras, who refused with a gentle shake of his head. Grantaire looked towards the sky, his eyes lighting up and a small, rueful smile on his face

"Look Apollo-a red dawn" He said, raising his bottle to the east. Enjolras nodded, and looked at the crimson-streaked sky. It was as red as the blood that was slowly creeping across Grantaire's favorite green shirt and seeping through his waistcoat.

"I think this is SUPPOSED Symbolic-the red dawn and my blood-stained sash…." Grantaire began again.

"Remember what Feuilly said? He said that 'The Blood of the Martyrs will water the meadows of France" Enjolras said softly, remembering the student's impassioned words that night a mere two days ago. It felt like a lifetime since they had met at the Café, dreaming of freeing the opressed….

"Didn't say anything about the Blood of Angry Men turning the Gutters red" Grantaire murmured.

"No one ever does Grantaire" Enjolras replied sadly. There was another silence, and Grantaire took another swig of Brandy.

"I think I'm going to go in a minute Apollo" Grantaire said quietly, his voice weak and shaky. Enjolras turned his head to look at his friend again.

"I don't mind it much though-I knew we'd all die….I knew it would probably come to naught, this 'Glorious Revolution'" Grantaire said, an underlying bitter tone in his voice. Enjolras looked up-a few clouds that had drifted over on a summer breeze were emptying the last of the Night's Summer Shower.

"So why did you join it?" Enjolras asked-anything to keep Grantaire talking, anything to distract him from the fact that, any moment now, Grantaire would die, he would be alone and the Barricade would finally fall….

Grantaire sighed, his eyes full of pain as he shifted slightly.

"Because I knew that anything with your support would be a worthwhile cause-seeing as I led a pretty worthless life, I thought I may as well go out with a bang, die for something worth fighting for, surrounded by friends" Grantaire said softly. Enjolras hung his head.

"It is my fault you are dying Grantaire….I am sorry for leading you to this" He said softly. Grantaire shrugged.

"Not your fault Apollo…mine. I came here and took the bloody bullet didn't I?" Enjolras heard Grantaire's breaths becoming more and more ragged, and felt tears fall from his eyes.

"I was going anyway….it was only a matter of time before I died….I didn't have very much to live for" Grantaire's voice was slightly raspy, and his breaths shallower.

"I-I'm glad you're here with me….at the end" Grantaire said hoarsely.

"Dying….by your side. It-it's not that bad a death really…not to me" Grantaire coughed, blood flying from his mouth, and he sighed, leaning heavily against the Barricade.

"I think I'm going now Apollo….sorry….for being such a….mess" Grantaire wheezed. Enjolras took a shaky breath.

"I am sorry my friend" Grantaire's face lit up.  
>"Friend?" He whispered. Enjolras nodded, and Grantaire smiled.<p>

"Friend" Enjolras affirmed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Always a friend" He continued.  
>"Goodbye….Apollo…Enjolras…..friend" Enjolras shut his eyes tightly as the tears threatened to blur his vision. As he opened them again, he saw that Grantaire was still, his green eyes vacant, a smile on his lips.<p>

"Farewell Grantaire…I will see you soon"

Enjolras sat there in silence, next to his friend, waiting until the Barricade was broken open. The When the explosion came, and the Soldiers flooded the barricade, he was pulled, struggling, out onto the street, where he stood proud and tall as they waited for the Firing Squad to shoot.

"LONG LIVE THE REPUBLIC!" Enjolras shouted. The survivors cheered and repeated the phrase-over and over and over, until the call was made.

"FIRE!"

The last thing Enjolras saw was the cruel, cold faces of the soldiers and the last thing he felt was the sharp pain as the bullet found its mark.

**Well, there ya go. I'm sad now. =(**

**Review, and I'll send Grantaire to be your drinking buddy.**

**GRANTAIRE: I never agreed to this...**

**BCFM: Too bad**


End file.
